A Big EFF U to the New Year's Resolution gods? hmmmmm ....

As another New Year’s Eve is on our doorstep ... it’s time to formulate  "new"  New Year's resolutions (made with the utmost conviction, of course) ....  but only to be dropped like steaming hot potatoes some time before February as a “mission impossible.”

Look ... I really hate to be the Negative Nelly here ... God knows I love a good comeback story ... and I would much rather see a triumph than a tragedy.

We, as human beings, feel profoundly drawn to the notion of bettering ourselves as the dawn of a fresh year approaches.  It's a time to reevaluate our downfalls and the worst qualities in our lives and vow to reboot ourselves.  

We struggle throughout the year to lose or gain weight (ok ... who is the asshole that needs to GAIN weight?!?!) ... spend more quality time with our significant other, spouse and/or children ... get to the gym on a more regular basis ... and especially the ever so important quit smoking or drinking in order to become healthier. All these very admirable goals look soooooooo good on paper (ooops ... screen) ... unfortunately .. for most ... they blatantly appear completely unattainable in practice.

So ... why, I ask you ... if we haven't been able to achieve these things for 365 consecutive days ... do we believe that the magic of January first is going to somehow lift us out of our laziness and denial and give us the serious kick in the ass to accomplish our goals?!?!

I'll tell you why ...... motivation.  Simple, unadulterated, downright MOTIVATION!

We all know that someone with the right motivation is capable of extraordinary accomplishments.  For instance ... take a look at some of these money-related reality shows like Survivor.  These people are put under incredibly horrific circumstances with little to no water and food ... made to endure weeks and weeks of eating weird things like entrails and bugs, sleeping in terribly uncomfortable conditions, made to participate in humiliating competitions, kept away from all their loved ones and modern life as they know it .... and they happily endure ALL this because they are motivated by winning a million dollars!  

What if a doctor told you that if you ate one more cookie or smoked one more cigarette .... that you would drop dead instantaneously .... or if you didn't get on the treadmill at least once a day for 30 minutes that a tiny bomb inserted in your brain would turn your head into a pile of jello .... or if you didn't read your children a book and kiss your significant other every single day and say I love you with as much conviction as your work that they would vanish off the face of the earth never to be seen again?

Yes ... these are all extreme, hyperbolic events ... but as I said above ... with the right motivation we are ALL capable of achieving our goals.

So ... I ask you again .... if there was a million dollars or whatever motivates you ... waiting for you at the end of 2012 if you accomplished your New Year's resolution .... would you endure? 

Dream a little dream with me ... OR ..... Facebook killed my memories.

Facebook is a fascinating entity.  I really think that one day, eventually .... everybody will be somehow interconnected with everyone else in the world ... a la a Kevin Bacon Six Degrees of Separation kind of thing.  This is eerily fascinating because I never really wanted THAT many people in my life to know the intimate details of my daily existence.  Where is the mystery in saying ... 'whatever happened to Joe Blow ... I haven't seen or heard from him in 20 years' and the awesome thing about that is ... you NEVER know ... it is all a wonderful dream.  You can wonder all you want about Joe Blow and make up any colorful story that you want about him ....   But then ... lo and behold THERE'S JOE BLOW on facebook in living color and you find out that he has 6 kids, is divorced and loves fishing, hunting and his favorite movie is Animal House and he has turned into a terribly fat, balding racist.   Thanks to Facebook ... the end to any of life's mysteries are imminently over ladies and gentlemen ... and whether you see that as a good thing or a bad thing says an enormous amount about your romantic view of the world.

There are certain people that you meet along the way in your life and EXPECT never to see again.  You know ... chatting with somebody in line at the grocery store just to be polite ... but then ... you leave and they quickly vanish from your mind as if they never existed.  But with this whole facebook magic .... you can now be friends with every single solitary person that you ever had a scintilla of a brief encounter with and then some!

Recently, I got a friend request from a girl that I went to elementary school with.  I honestly didn't recognize her name at first glance and left her in the courteous 'limbo' pile.  You know .... not 'friending' the requestor but not out and out denying them either.  It is genuinely passive aggressive ... I know ... but it's a nice way to do business and not feel like a total schmuck.

She persisted and private messaged me and it finally dawned on me that I had spent 3 or 4 years with her in a class at Gutermuth Elementary School.  I immediately got this very clear vision of a little girl with a short, brown Dorothy Hamill-esque haircut with freckles planted playfully on her round, full cheeks.

This is Dorothy Hamill
 ... for those of you who missed the 70's                                             

 When I looked through her facebook pictures .... I shockingly saw her mother .... no ... not her mother!  HER!  Where did that little freckled face girl go???  I have to tell you, dear readers, this has thrown me into a horror.  If this little girl doesn't exist anymore ..... where did I go?  Did she look at my picture and see a middle aged lady?  Did she wonder what happened to me only to be shocked that I had the audacity to grow up and grow older.   It's one thing to remember someone a very specific way in your mind's eye but another thing entirely to see the reality of history smacking you right in your 'face'book.  I didn't want to know her as this 2011 person .... I wanted to remember her the way that she was back in 1975 .... stupid facebook ... why couldn't you just leave well enough alone and allow me to have my intact, untarnished memories of yesteryear.

I'm not sure that I like where all of this is going .... (sigh)

Motherly Mayhem

I am the mother of 3 children.  Yes ... I know ... quite shocking, isn't it?   Frankly, I think I'm a pretty decent one ... albeit slightly unconventional .... still I'd give myself a solid B+ on most days.  As I'm sure most of you mothers who are reading this know .... raising children with an abundance of love, structure, discipline and fun is a precarious balancing act.  I adore my children and honestly don't know where I would be in my life without them .... but .... it took me years to utter  these soul crushing words out loud ..."my children are simply not enough for me".

Those seemingly benign words destroyed my parental psyche for the entire first few years as a mother.  I knew I was 'supposed' to love and adore my children and make them my entire life .... well .... that's what all the movies, books, etc.... said.  In reality .... I was slowly losing what was left of my addled mind.  I kept this deep, dark secret tucked away in my brain where it grew and eventually manifested itself in entirely self destructive, crazy ways.

Here is one story to illustrate this:

I was the mother of a 26 month old toddler as well as a 5 month old infant and felt like I was drowning in putrid diapers, drool and depression.  Out of the blue ... I got an exciting phone call from a girlfriend that was originally from Louisville but had recently relocated to New Orleans ... The Big Easy .... !!

French Quarter - Bourbon Street ... where insanity reigns
supreme and we were in there somewhere!

She was looking to put together her own personal Mardi Gras Krue to terrorize the town over a long weekend.  You would think that as a responsible, new mother that I would take a look around at the loving, longing smiles of my children and politely decline her invitation.  Well ... you would be horrendously wrong because if I could have jumped on a plane that very afternoon ... I would have done it.  Instead, I did the next best thing ... I grabbed my girlfriend, Lori ... who was also mother of a 2 year old ... and we made the 10 hour drive to New Orleans a few weeks later much to the shock and dismay of our significant others.

The millisecond we crossed into the state of Louisiana ... I could slowly feel my DNA changing into something exciting and terrifying (you know ... Incredible Hulk style).  The closer we drove to the city of New Orleans ... my proper decision making abilities began to fall quickly out the window and tumble out onto the disappearing highway behind me.  I tell you this for a fact ... the city of New Orleans has a mystical, magical way of luring you into donning a beautiful mask of impropriety.  I have done some of the most embarrassing and elicit acts in New Orleans and all the while believing somehow that they were completely and utterly acceptable in polite society .... which, of course, they were not.

We arrived in New Orleans appropriately at Happy Hour .... which in New Orleans simply means that at any time ... you are physically capable of lifting a glass to your face it is deemed Happy Hour.  My friend Genny greeted us in all her excitement in her lovely Garden District apartment.  We wasted absolutely no time on pleasantries and immediately began to make good use of the box wine that she had chilling in the fridge.  After a few proper glasses of wine .... Genny decided to get a bit randy and mooned me as I was documenting our evening with my newly purchased camera.  Lori saw a tiny tattoo on Genny and screamed ... "YOU HAVE A TATTOO????  I want a tattooooooooo!!"  Thus began our quest to acquire 'ink' for Lori that evening.  But ... not before we downed the entire box of wine and stopped at several pubs on the way to the French Quarter in search of a tattoo parlor.

We stumbled and wandered our way around the French Quarter and finally found 'the place'.  It was down a dark alleyway and from what I remember had a number of n'er do wells hanging out around the entrance smoking and swapping stories.  We burst into the front door and apparently we had all made the instantaneously brilliant decision to procure matching tattoos.  Along the way we had picked up yet another box of wine ... (what in the heck was our obsession with box wine back then??) and decided to share it with everyone in the establishment ... shot style served sans glasses.

Yep ... This is pretty much what we were dealing with.

We finally got down to business and began to get our tattoos.  All I remember is a man with long black hair ... who had an eerie resemblance to an Emo-Dracula poking what I hoped was a sterilized, inked-up needle into my pubic bone.

After it was all said and done ... Genny and I walked outside and waited for Lori to finish her session.  We encountered one of the many tattoo artists outside who had more piercing perforations in his head and body than clove holes on an Easter ham!  I asked if any of them were particularly painful.    He resolutely replied ... only 'the Prince Albert'.  Trying to act uber cool ... I shrugged it off and nodded in agreement as if I had some inkling as to what the hell he was talking about.  Genny, of course, blew our super cool poser cover and said ... 'what the hell's a Prince Albert' .... to which he non-chalantly replied .... "here ... let me just show you ..." and right there and then ... on the streets of New Orleans ... he proceeded to unzip his pants and pull out his wang and show us his 'Prince Albert'.

 Genny and I instinctively decided to play it off as if he was showing us a photo of his blue ribbon winning prize pig .... overly complimenting and smiling but at the same time internally screaming in shock and wondering ... why the hell would somebody have one of those!  (yeah ... go ahead and google it ... WACKY STUFF I tell you!)

Things had gotten weird ... and in New Orleans .... that is saying a tremendous amount.  About that time ... Lori came stumbling out of the tattoo parlor and we quickly ambled down the street in search of a less 'rapey' environment.

It was decided with much fanfare that we should go immediately and without delay to the nearest Walgreens and purchase cherry hair dye in order to festively color each other's hair. Yes ... I know ... sheer brilliance, right?

  I'm not sure of the exact occurences that followed this ingenious turn of events .... but the forensic proof the next morning revealed all.

We blearily awoke the next  early afternoon ... fully clothed and piled aimlessly on the bed ... wreaking of the insanity from the night before.  Against my very skewed better judgment ... I  opened my sticky, partially glued shut eyes and through my bone-dry, sand filled mouth uttered the first brilliant words of the morning ...
" .... what the fuck?!?!"

As I began to look around the apartment ... I saw stained handprints on the walls, dried cherry colored drips all over the carpet and what appeared to be a crumpled up human being deposited haphazardly on the floor.

Then ... something jolted me .... a stinging pain on my pelvis.  "Ouch!!! ..."

I pulled down my jeans and saw a bright white, surgical-like bandage attached to my hip bone.  Oh CRAP!!  As the events of the evening began to sickeningly swirl around my brain .... I suddenly heard a croaking sound come out of my throat and I screamed in the general direction of my cohorts .... "OH MY GA ... OH MY GA .... what did we do ... oh no .... tattoos .... what the .... !!!  My infinitely handicapped brain was not prepared to adjust to the reality that had abruptly presented itself.  My two accomplices wobbled out of bed and immediately looked at their own surgical patch and I watched in slow motion the color physically drain from their already pale, sallow faces.

My mind was crawling over the battered and fragmented exploits of the prior evening .... trying desperately to piece together a timeline .... anything.  There were no words .... we were all in a complete and utter stupor.  Silently we stood there .... staring at each other and then back at the bandage.  We were all simply too terrified ... in the glaring light of day ....  to peak under the surgical patch because not one of us could recall what indelible piece of artwork was going to be staring back at us .... for eternity!!  My mind was working on overtime replaying the events of the evening and pleading silently that the tattoo wasn't something akin to Yosemite Sam or Elmo .... (no offense to either of those two fine characters)

We all decided to rip off the bandages at once .... 1, 2, 3 ... PULL!!!!!

Looking up at me .... was a dainty red heart with swirling ivy on each side.  A collective audible sigh of relief filled the room.  I could not have been more elated in my life!  We all fell into bed laughing and thanking every God, Saint & Angel in our collective personal religious history that this was the only consequence of our debauched evening.

As we picked ourselves up and began to process and analyze the previous evening's events ... it was decidedly apparent that we were clearly not in any shape to be dying our hair.  There was semi-permanent auburn cherry hair dye EVERYWHERE.  On the walls, on the floor, in the bathroom, on our clothing, bodies and least of all .... in our hair!

To this day ... I still feel just horrible about Genny's apartment.  How she explained all that mess to her landlord and not gotten evicted ... I'll never know.

After a long weekend of indulged revelry .... we eventually began our return home .... minus several thousand brain cells and with the addition of our permanent physical keepsake.

Upon our somewhat personal shameful return home ... we were greeted enthusiastically by our families.  Husbands were overjoyed to once again have  their wives back to mother their children ... after what I'm sure was a slightly stressful but fully appreciated undertaking on their part.

All was well with the world .... children were gleeful .... homes were filled with the love and laughter of an intact family unit.

I have a permanent reminder of that crazy, lost weekend more than 14 years ago.  I look at it often and giggle to myself about what haphazard, delinquents we three were so long ago.  I went to New Orleans to have a crazy, fun weekend.  To remind myself that even though my title had changed from Tyra to Mommy and Honey .... that I still hadn't lost myself.  That I could still be a great mother and wife and still keep what innately made me ... ME!  Granted .... in hindsight .... that weekend was probably a bit much of a crazy way to figure that out .... but enlightenment certainly takes on all forms in our lives.

Since that time years ago .... I have made it a point to take at least one 'girl trip' a year.  I think it is important to continue to remind ourselves of our youth .... to commune with yourself and with girlfriends to solidify and rekindle relationships .... and frankly .... to just laugh relentlessly aloud and have a good time.  It certainly makes me a better Tyra ... Mommy ... and Honey.

Bridesmaid Nightmare?!? ... Hell no ... Not at this awesome wedding!

So .... I'm a bridesmaid in a wedding on Friday night.  Yeah, yeah .... oldest living bridesmaid, right??  I thought my days of participating in weddings were long gone.  Lately I have been invited to a few wedding vow renewals as well as weddings of a few children of close friends ... but all but one or two of my friends have been married divorced and married again for many years!  So when I got the invitation to be a bridesmaid ... at first I was a bit stunned and then incredibly proud to be asked to stand beside two spectacularly awesome people on one of the most important days in their lives.

The bride is a very cool (and I mean that in every sense of the word) local musician named Brigid Kaelin (geez .... I hope she doesn't mind me name dropping her) and her husband to be is David Caldwell.  She is Louisville personified through and through .... and by that ... I mean she eats, lives and breathes all the best of this little 'burg that we call home. She is one of those great gal friends that you could have a crazy adventure with or have a funky fab day lazing about doing nothing.    David is from Lubbock, Texas and truly lives up to the ideal of a strikingly handsome, genteel, stand-up southern guy.  Cupid must have really known what he was doing when he pulled back that bow and arrow on Brigid and David ...  because I tell you in all honesty ... I could not imagine either of these two wonderful people surviving a day without each other in their respective lives.  He is the calmness and patience that she needs in her life.  She is the spunk and artistic vibe that revs his engine.

yeah ... all of these would have been
a BIG 'no go' for me ... but David
probably would have loved the Texas
themed dress in the left lower corner!

After the excitement of the wedding announcement subsided.  It was time to get down to brass tacks and start planning the wedding.  Brigid was way beyond kind in her very wide parameters in regard to the bridesmaid dresses.  She essentially picked out a theme color and said to go find something in this 'color range'.  Do you know how CRAZY unique and unusual that is in the much more common world of wedding bridezillas???? WOW ...  That's it?!? ... No crazy couture crap?? ... no micro-managing the fittings or the silhouettes??  Just .... 'here's a color' .... have at it!  This was a complete and utter relief to me because at my age .... cutesy little bridesmaids dresses would have looked like I was participating in a bad Saturday Night Live skit.   I mean, if Brigid picked out a terribly unflattering dress ... as her friend .... of course, I would be supportive ... suck it up and wear it (cussing under my breath her every step down the aisle).

But .... the freedom of picking out our own dresses was something of a very generous gift and a tremendous treat!  So ... off I went to find a flattering dress that could hold up to the humidity and hot late July Kentucky weather.   As a lot of my friends know ... I am not a great in-store shopper.  I have very little patience for sales people and far shorter tempered with parking and walking through dozens of stores.  So ... I do what any 21st century bridesmaid does .... I head to the internet! I shopped relentlessly online for a few weeks and finally found a few dresses on-line that fit the bill.  I ordered both and decided on the one that I thought fit me and the event the best.   Brigid and David haven't seen my dress yet and hopefully she will be happy with my choice.

So ... as I head into the end of this week and eagerly anticipate the wedding events to come .... I will take in every moment for Brigid and David because as this seasoned ol' married gal knows .... it is an absolute whirl wind and incredibly difficult to stay present in the moment and appreciate the magnitude of the day.  I have a feeling, though ... knowing Brigid and David .... that in all the hectic craziness of the day .... no matter what they forget or miss .... they will never forget that precious moment that they say 'I Do'.

I love you both!

t

A Better 'Me'

As I sit here patiently awaiting the cab that will whisk me away to the Grand Bahama Airport on my way back home to the Bluegrass State .... I am both very sad and very anxious.  Sad to be leaving such a beautiful, peaceful, calm summer existence .... Anxious to re-acclimate to my life back in Louisville, Ky.

I have had a wonderful summer here in my adopted country.  I have been to Banana Bay to stick my toes in the turquoise blue water more than I can count ..... I have boated in the canals while gazing at all of the beautiful homes on the shore ..... I have exercised, eaten well, hung with friends and generally lived a blessed 5 1/2 weeks.  Now it is time to get back to the reality that is my life in Louisville.

Even though Louisville, to me, represents a modicum of stress and a lot of craziness .... I am looking forward to hugging my children and planting a big sloppy kiss on my husband's mouth!  I can't wait to see my friends this weekend and listen to a great Louisville band.

I am so thankful to my family for allowing me to have some 'me' time this summer.  I'm not sure that I have had any great personal epiphanies or philosophised much .... but I have reflected on all the people and places that I love and have loved in my life and I come away from my summer hiatus a more centered and incredibly appreciative person.

I have the best, most selfless and understanding family in the entire world and I think they take the following saying very seriously ... "If Momma ain't happy .... ain't nobody happy" !!  And the simple fact that they have allowed me the time to re-energize and to find my smile again is something that I will always cherish.

Happily Homeward Bound ..... :)

Hello ... My Name is Tyra ... and I am a Fag Hag.

It is no secret that I love me some gays.

I'm not exactly sure why .... maybe it's because I was exposed to gay people at a young age.  One of my Uncles is gay ...( I'm pretty sure my other Uncle is gay ... but he's staying hush-hush about it.)  One of my childhood best friend's brother AND sister are gay.

 I grew up with the crazy notion that gay people were NOT a bunch of weirdos to be shunned or a race of aliens that need to be quarantined on an island.  Perhaps it was also that I felt weird and different as a child because of my non-conventional upbringing and dysfunctional family life.  It gave me a comforting kinship with other damaged, weird-feeling people of my world.  All I know is .... I am a gay magnet. I put out a 'you're safe with me and I won't judge you' pheromone that is only perceptible to the gay community at large.

Maybe that's why, at 19, I experienced one of the most awesome and life changing boyfriend relationships of my life with a guy named Wayne.


Wayne was a horse trainer at both his mom's and a neighboring farm's saddlebred horse facility.  I rode horses as a kid and when I saw him lunge-lining a beautiful saddlebred .... it was love at first sight!  He was strong and handsome and had a funny, self-deprecating way of expressing himself. We started instantly dating and before I knew it ... we were hopelessly entangled in each other's lives.  All I remember about those days is how much fun we were having.  Shopping, dancing, riding horses .... it was all so perfect ... well .... except the fact that he was gay .... which honestly didn't bother me at the time because life was wonderful ... and ....yes ... we 'did it'.

Then suddenly and without warning ... IT happened .... Madonna's first album came out and Wayne went APESHIT gay.  I remember vividly being in the barn on that day when he ran breathlessly and wild-eyed into the center aisle of the barn carrying  a big jambox and a cassette tape .... He put the cassette tape into the jambox and began enthusiastically choreographing dances in all his 'Bob Fosse' glory to the songs 'Lucky Star' and 'Borderline'.  I sat completely still and transfixed ..... staring at him and slowly coming to the realization that our relationship would never be the same .... it was too late.  I had lost him to the lure of that great gay icon, Madonna.  I entirely blame that restalyne injected interloper for the downfall of our blissful relationship. I realized that I had to release him as a boyfriend and then reconnect with him somehow as a best friend.  To this day ... Wayne and I are BFF's and of course ... he does my hair.  Isn't that just typical! Of course ..... I still hold a slight grudge against Madonna .... even though I now know from hindsight that our relationship was doomed from the start.  Although ... It is a well known agreed upon fact that  if something ever happens to my hubby .... that I will never marry again and Wayne and I will live out our years together as platonic 'gay husband' and wife ....

Losin' It In Paradise .....

So .... as most of you know by now .... I am on Grand Bahama Island.

This is my sanctuary .... the only place where I can finally remove a very ill-fitting and itchy mask that I typically feel the need to wear in Louisville.  Grand Bahama is also one of the few places where I'm not the craziest person in the room .... which .... in turn .... gives me the very unusual feeling of being normal!  So ... when I got the diagnosis that I have hypothyroidism and only trace levels of the necessary vitamins and minerals in my body needed to stay alive .... I decided to run away from home .... or should I say .... runaway to another home .... in order to work on getting healthy.

My endocrinologist, who I still think looks like a pedophile, told me he was willing to give me the summer to 'reboot' my thyroid before he put me on some nasty looking synthetic hormones to raise the thyroxine levels in my thyroid.  I honestly don't want to rehash all the insanity that comes from having a struggling thyroid because it is entirely depressing. Suffice it to say that it makes you feel like you are constantly carrying a load of bricks on your back and that you have attempted to run a marathon when in fact you are doing everything in your power just to get up to change the channel on the TV. (that was probably a bad example ... who the hell gets up to turn the channel anymore???)

Of course, I attributed all these symptoms to a slightly stressful lifestyle .... culinary school, three kids and an entrepreneur husband.  Turns out ... I'm not dying or anything ... but I have what I lovingly like to call "Fat Old Lady Disease".  So ... I consulted some super smarty-pants experts  ... trainers, chefs, nutritionists, etc.... and am in a self imposed 'boot camp'.

This 'booth camp' is 6 weeks in duration.  I am currently starting week 4 as of today.  I have lost about 8 pounds in the last three weeks.  I wake up early every day and go to the gym for about 2 hours.  At about 11:30am and 6pm precisely .... my lunch & dinner are delivered by a world class chef (Tim Tibbitts and his beautiful & clever wife Rebecca to be exact) which typically consists of thyroxine boosting foods that contain high levels of zinc, selenium, iodine, etc... These foods are mostly seafood ... which I absolutely LOVE.  Let me just say ... that without these beautiful dishes of food that are both incredibly delicious and visually stunning .... I would be struggling to figure out a positive food path for myself.

Okay .... I know .... I know .... I am incredibly spoiled rotten.  I really get that ... but who said there's something wrong with being spoiled if it is well earned???  It's one thing to be spoiled and quite another to be a spoiled brat ..... I am positively NOT the latter.

There is one thing that I truly know for certain about myself .... I undoubtedly have ZERO will power when it comes to food.  It is absolutely my 'crack'!!  Long gone are the days that I can eat a whole tube of Pillsbury cookie dough and only gain a zit.  Now ... I gain a zit AND 10 pounds!  So .... I have put together a team of people that are going to help me do the things that I simply can't do myself ... cause ... you know .... I'm a lazy ass when it comes to 'me' .... pure and simple!

Hopefully, I'll get healthy enough that I don't have to take any synthetic drugs ... lose some much needed weight so that my body isn't overworking itself and shutting down much needed organs and have a good time doing it in a place where I know there is no stress and a lot of good environmental triggers. (Cause those bad environmental triggers back in Louisville are what got me here in the first place, damnit!)

Wish me luck and hopefully I'll be 'losin' it in paradise'!

So .... I'm in The Bahamas for the summer

So .... I'm in The Bahamas for the summer .... in my own house .... in The Bahamas for the summer.  (Figured I should just have full disclosure about this.)  Been here for 3 weeks .... doing stuff.

I was here initially for two weeks with a summer babysitter who is helping me with Tres Spawn.  First .... I just can't really bring myself to call her a nanny .... especially because she's not from a third world country and Second .... Tres Spawn are my three much loved but highly aggravating kiddos.  Essentially .... the summer babysitter is here to make sure that I don't go all bat shit crazy and beat Tres Spawn in a Mommy Dearest .... 'no wire hangers' kinda' way.

 All my friends probably think I'm insane .... but my babysitter is an absolutely adorable little tiny blonde spinner girl.  You know .... those perky little blondes who have so much energy that they actually look like they are about to spin off the earth if it weren't for major amounts of gravity! But all is well .... calm down! ..... I have an explanation!!    I've never really been super intimidated by cute girls only because I figure if my husband is going to cheat on me with a tiny blonde spinner girl .... then .... don't let the door hit ya' where the good Lord split ya', mutha' fucka'!!  Cause .... it is no big secret between hubby and I that .... after all ... I'll take ALL YOUR SHIT and leave you penniless and in a fetal position if that happens .... and he absolutely knows this about me ..... that  I am a vindictive, heartless and incredibly cruel person when it comes to infidelity.  So .... no worries.

After the two weeks alone with blonde babysitter and Tres Spawn ..... hot Geek-Boy Hubby showed up for a week to hang out and frankly flew 2500 miles to get laid .... which I obliged ..... (gah ... I'm not that much of an asshole! lol)

So .... here's the good part ... wait for it .....

I just dropped off Tres Spawn, Hot Geek-Boy Hubby AND blonde babysitter at the airport and they are all going home together as one big happy family leaving me alone in The Bahamas for two weeks.  Ummmm .... did you here what I said?  ALONE !!!

What's that you say???  'You crazy bitch ....'    No! .... I'm not crazy ... but I will cop to the bitch part.  They actually left me alone on this island to 'focus and get centered'.  ummmmmm ..... yeah ..... That just happened.

More later on WHY.